


lightbringer, tamer of night

by 100demons



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His face is all bony angles and razor sharp edges that cut deep into Kise’s chest, shredding his breath into soft little tatters that beat uselessly against the hard bone of his ribs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lightbringer, tamer of night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cerberusia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/gifts).



> many thanks to qem for the quick beta

lightbringer  
tamer of night  
blossom of hours unleashed  
make me a lawbender  
all equalized  
saved from the chill and heat  
your power flows through me transformed  
here’s where I was born

 _Landsailor_  
Vienna Teng

 

* * *

 

 

They take the train together, Adidas shower shoes still wet from the shower and squeaking on the polished floor. Through luck and a little expert maneuvering, Kasamatsu manages to snag an empty seat by the door, fending off the advances of a disgruntled teen with a rude gesture.

Kise opens his mouth in protest and then closes it after catching the forbidding look on Kasamatsu’s face.

“Sit,” Kasamatsu says and places a hand on Kise’s shoulder, pressing down gently.

Kise sits.

He stretches his right leg out awkwardly, athletic tape stark against the bunched up fabric of his dark blue sweatpants. Kise can already feel the dull ache in his ankle start to flare up again after the short walk to the train station.

“Maybe we can stop by Seirin,” he says, picking at the string of his hoodie with long fingers. “I haven’t seen Kurokocchi since the Cup finals.”

“We’ll see,” Kasamatsu hums, history textbook in hand and highlighter in the other. He’s leaning against the side railing by the seat, dark hair falling over his eyes. He brushes it back absently and accidentally leaves an orange mark on his cheek, just barely visible in the light of fading sun. “I called ahead to talk to Kuroda-sensei and he said he’ll stay past regular hours to see how your ankle is doing. Maybe after the appointment we can get another round of okonomiyaki.” Kasamatsu smiles, the curve of his mouth wickedly sharp. “If you call Midorima, I might even say yes.”

Kise laughs hard enough that he knocks his head against the wall, a bright burst of white blue stars scattering across his vision. Kise blinks, caught in the heady daze post impact and pre-pain, and watches the lights fade away.

“Idiot,” Kasamatsu hisses, voice suddenly much closer than it was before. Kise feels something cool and coarse probe his scalp, mussing the artfully disheveled post-practice hair Kise had perfected his second year of junior high.

“ _Ow_ ,” Kise flinches as Kasamatsu’s fingers brush slightly against a bump right at the base of his skull, sending shooting pains all the way down to his neck. It subsides to a dull throbbing pang when Kasamatsu pulls away, a funny counterpoint to the ache in his ankle.

“Clumsy,” Kasamatsu says roughly, but his hands are gentle as he cups Kise’s chin and tilts it up. “Close your eyes tight and then open them back up.”

Kise obeys automatically. When he opens his eyes, a hand is covering his left, giving him the odd sensation of being in two places at once. Kasamatsu’s down on one knee in front of Kise, and this close up, Kise can see all the tiny lines carved between his brows, the sharp edge of his jaw, the white curve of his throat and the faint bluish veins running underneath his pale skin. The orange highlighter mark is much clearer now, a bright arrow cutting across the edge of his cheekbone.

Kasamatsu shifts his hand to cover Kise’s right eye and stares intently.

Kise swallows, carefully.

“Your pupils are reacting to the light fine,” Kasamatsu says finally and draws his hand away. He looks down pointedly at Kise’s wrapped ankle and smiles, wry.

“Looks like you’re barely holding together. Try to take care of yourself, especially since I won’t be here next year to make sure you don’t keep doing stupid things.”

Kise tries to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, tries to come up with something appropriately witty with a touch of disrespect.

Kasamatsu leans over to the side and picks up the textbook he’d dropped onto the floor.

“Wait,” Kise rasps and Kasamatsu looks up, book in hand.

“What is it?”

Kise licks the pad of his thumb and reaches over to wipe the mark on Kasamatsu’s face. His face is warm to the touch, with the faintest hint of bristle from a missed shave this morning. Kise rubs his thumb in tender winding circles until it’s gone.

For one brief moment, Kasamatsu’s face is painfully open, stripped of his cutting humor and his authority as a senpai and Captain. He looks strangely young and vulnerable.

Kise pulls his hand away. “You had something on your face,” he says lamely.

“Oh.” Kasamatsu touches his cheek with a fingertip. “Thanks, I guess.” He tugs on the edge of his sleeve and rubs it against his skin. “That was kind of gross though, you definitely didn’t have to use your own spit.”

“And miss my chance to make you feel weirded out? Sepai, you know me better than that.”

Kasamatsu shoots him a dirty look and picks himself up from the floor, unfolding his long limbs with a casual grace.

“I hope you end up with a new kouhai who’s twice as aggravating and obnoxious as you are,” Kasamatsu says a little darkly, wedging himself into the corner between the door and the side rails of Kise’s seat.

“I’m one of a kind,” Kise preens. “No one can be more amazing than me.”

Kasamatsu gives him a look that usually precedes a high kick to the head.

Kise settles back into his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. He very consciously does not think about what has happened. He clenches his right hand into a tight fist, to stop it from trembling, and tucks it into the crook of his elbow.

Long minutes pass, marked only by the changing rattle of the train car and the soft flutter of pages being turned as Kasamatsu makes his slow way through Sengoku Japan. Kise closes his eyes but doesn’t quite fall asleep, instead drifting in the limbo between oblivion and clarity.

“Oi, oi Kise.”

Something grabs him by the shoulder, jerking him abruptly, and Kise stirs. He lifts his head and blinks, then blinks again.

Kasamatsu’s face is haloed in a brilliant white light, the sharp profile of his nose illuminated by the fluorescent glow of the train and edged with tiny shimmers of colored radiance. His eyes are cold and gray and stark against the black of his hair, still damp and curling from the heat. He turns his head from the side to look directly into Kise’s eyes and smiles, showing crooked white teeth. His face is all bony angles and razor sharp edges that cut deep into Kise’s chest, shredding his breath into soft little tatters that beat uselessly against the hard bone of his ribs.

“We’ve got a transfer coming in, remember?”

Kasamatsu tugs again, only this time his hand is tight around Kise’s wrist, rough calluses digging into tender skin. Kise looks down and wonders, a little, how his flesh isn’t burning up from all the heat Kasamatsu-senpai is radiating.

“Are you coming or not, Ryouta?”

Kise squints a little as he looks up at the light and at Kasamatsu’s eyes.

“Yes, yes always,” he says, and follows him into the darkness beyond.


End file.
